


Whiskey and You

by capsiclewidow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capsiclewidow/pseuds/capsiclewidow
Summary: Natasha busied herself with refilling her own glass with whiskey, then lifted it towards him.“By the way, it’s after midnight. Merry Christmas, Rogers.”Steve returned her smile, the first real one of the night. He lifted his freshly refilled glass and tapped it against hers.“You too.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 42
Kudos: 252





	1. 2012

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest, this is incredibly generic, incredibly cheesy, and incredibly fluffy (with just a liiiittle bit of angst thrown in just because it's me). 
> 
> So Happy Merry Whatever Holiday You Celebrate, and enjoy some plotless Christmas fluff 😊
> 
> Title comes from Whiskey and You by Chris Stapleton.

**DEC 24TH, 2012 | MANHATTAN**

“Are we boring you?”

Steve blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion. He’d been alone on the helipad of the newly renovated Stark Tower - well, _Avengers_ Tower, Stark was now calling it - for quite a while, and he was sure no one had noticed him sneak out of the party. Of course, if _anyone_ was going to notice…of course it was her.

“Agent Romanoff,” he replied in greeting, his eyes returning to the Manhattan skyline from where they’d glanced briefly back at her.

“I know Stark’s parties suck, but at least get some alcohol in you before you completely write it off.”

Natasha sat down beside him, her feet dangling off of the edge of the helipad like his were. That’s when he noticed what she had in her hands.

“You know that has no affect on me, right?” he replied. She just shrugged, setting the glass tumblers she’d brought down on the ground between them and opening the bottle of liquor.

“Of course I do. It’s my job to know that.”

“Of course,” Steve repeated under his breath. Natasha ignored him.

“It’s also my job to acclimate you. _This_ -“ She paused to gesture out towards the city. “-sitting out here, alone, on Christmas Eve? Not acclimating.”

“Don’t really feel like acclimating today. Sorry,” Steve replied bitterly.

Natasha just hummed in response, pouring a bit of amber liquid from the bottle into the glasses, twisting the cap back on, and setting it down on the opposite side of her before handing him one of the glasses. He narrowed his eyes at her before accepting it.

“Are you drunk?”

“Nah. Alcohol doesn’t affect me that fast either.” Steve shot her a curious sideways glance, and she shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

“Yeah.” That was doubtful. They’d been working together for over six months already and Steve still didn’t know a damn thing about her beyond what was in the SHIELD file Fury had given him before Loki attacked the city.“Maybe.”

“Why do you ask?”

Steve huffed out a humorless laugh. “You’re being nice to me.”

“I’m always nice.” He glanced doubtfully over at her again. She just grinned. “Hey, I’m not mean. I’m... _intimidating_.”

Steve didn’t have a response to that. She wasn’t wrong. So instead stared down at the untouched drink in his hand. He could tell by the color and the scent that it was whiskey. He hadn’t had whiskey in...

Well, decades, technically. But for him it had only been a year. That last Christmas Eve before the ice, he and Bucky had stayed up all night keeping watch while Peggy and the Commandos slept. Bucky volunteered to accompany him to his post and they’d shared the bottle Steve had splurged on to give him as a gift.

A month later Bucky fell from the train. Steve had already finished off two bottles of whiskey on his own by the time Peggy found him, and he hadn’t had the desire to drink it since.

Steve could already feel his heart rate increasing as his mind wandered. He attempted to take a few breaths - just like the therapist at SHIELD had taught him to do, even though it wasn’t the slightest bit effective - and when that didn’t help him calm down, he lifted the glass and drained the entire thing in one gulp. Anything to get rid of the smell.

In his moment of panic, however, he hadn’t given himself a second to think it through. Suddenly he not only smelled it but tasted it, felt the burn of it all the way down his throat and the warmth of it in his stomach and the stinging in his eyes that he quickly tried to blink away.

“You okay?”

Natasha voice jolted him out of his head and he glanced over at her, having momentarily forgotten he wasn’t alone. The words didn’t make sense to him, and he had to repeat them in his head several times before he comprehended what she’d just asked him.

No one had ever asked him that before. Not genuinely, not in a way that convinced him they cared more about his wellbeing than curious about his situation.

“What?”

“You’re upset.” He continued to stare at her, the crease that was forming between her brows becoming more and more defined, her mask slowly slipping away as concern filled her eyes. “I know the beginnings of a panic attack when I see one, Rogers.”

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, averting his gaze, though he could still feel her eyes on him. No one needed to know about those, the panic attacks, a term his therapist had explained to him for the first time recently during a SHIELD-appointed session. That just simply wasn’t something one talked about - or something he was comfortable talking about - regardless of whether it was acceptable now.

“No you’re not.” Steve didn’t answer, just focused on his useless breathing exercise, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. “I’ve had plenty myself. Hard not to recognize.”

Steve glanced up at her curiously. She was still watching him, her expression softer than he’d ever seen it before. It felt raw and vulnerable, for her at least, which was a first. She was always so closed off, and he hadn’t been expecting it.

“Really?” he asked, hoping he didn’t come off as shocked as he felt like he did. He must not have - or she ignored it - because she nodded lightly, her lips ticking upward in a soft, almost sympathetic smile before she averted her gaze back down to the drink sitting in her lap.

“Yeah. They suck, but...” She paused, shrugging and taking a sip of her whiskey. “You get used to it. And then you’ll figure out how to fight them.”

“Do you get nightmares too?”

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to ask - their relationship was strictly professional, she’d made that very clear in the beginning - but she didn’t close herself off. Instead she just nodded.

“Not as much as I used to. But every once in a while...yeah. I do.”

They sat in silence for a while, and for the first time it was a comfortable one. She’d been right about being intimidating - not that he’d ever admit it to her - but in this moment, she wasn’t. In this moment, he thought, they almost felt like _friends_.

“This is the first Christmas since...” He trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat. She shot him a sideways glance when his voice strained, her brows creasing a bit in concern.

“Since the ice?” She guessed, phrasing it as a question as if she was trying to help him rather than answer for him.

“Since my best friend died.”

“Oh.” She frowned down at her drink. “Barnes.”

“Yeah.” Steve let out a soft sigh, blinking back the wetness that burned in his eyes again. “I mean, I know it’s been 68 years. But for me-“

“It’s still fresh. I get it.” She suddenly reached for his glass, slipping it out of his hands and filling it again before handing it back. “I’m sorry.”

Steve just shrugged. “It was so long ago. No point in whining about it.”

“Not for you. And you’re not whining, you’re grieving.” Their eyes met again, and that look was back, raw and sympathetic but in no way pitying him. “Don’t listen to SHIELD. It’s going to take time for you to adjust.”

“To acclimate,” he corrected her, and her lips curved up into a small, sideways smile. Something about it, and the way her eyes sparkled bright green in the lights from the city below, made Steve’s heart flip unexpectedly in his chest.

“Yes.” She busied herself with refilling her own glass, then lifted it towards him. “By the way, it’s after midnight. Merry Christmas, Rogers.”

Steve’s brain caught up and he finally returned her smile, the first real one of the night. He lifted his freshly refilled glass and tapped it against hers.

“You too.”


	2. 2013

**DEC 24TH, 2013 | LITHUANIA**

When Natasha re-entered the motel room, Steve was so concentrated on his tablet that he didn’t look up at her. At least, not until she dropped her phone heavily onto the bed and plopped down next to it, causing him to jump slightly and glare at her.

“What’s your problem?”

“Clint says hello and Fury says we’re stuck here for another two weeks,” she announced unenthusiastically.

Steve just let out a long sigh. They’d already been living out of the shitty hotel room for too long, and now by the time the operation ended they were going to have been there for almost a month. The ring of black market arms dealers they’d been sent to gather intel on and then take down was being quite elusive, and they’d been forced to stay back in order to keep their cover. Natasha had been trying to convince Nick they should pull back, re-strategize, get a new team in for infiltration and go at it from a different angle; but, as usual, he’d claimed that she was his best agent and the only one for the job; and besides, SHIELD had already sunk too much of its money, time, and resources for them to pull out now.

What she _didn’t_ tell Nick was that she was missing Christmas Eve with the Bartons. That somehow she’d never missed Christmas, not since Clint and Laura welcomed her into their family all those years ago. That the kids had been asking where Auntie Nat was all night. That she never even gave a shit about this stupid holiday until Clint became a part of it. Not that he’d care.

Well, he’d _care_. Just not enough to pull them from this _damn_ mission.

“At least we don’t have to go to Stark’s party this year,” Steve offered, already back to his tablet.

“Very true. That reminds me.”

Steve glanced up at her again, his brows furrowing curiously. Natasha twisted herself around to reach for the paper bag she’d sat next to the bed. From it she pulled out a bottle of whiskey, which she’d picked up at the little shop down the street earlier that day. When Steve saw it he chuckled and sat his tablet down.

“Are you ever going to stop trying to get me drunk?”

“No,” Natasha replied matter-of-factly, twisting off the cap of the bottle. She took a swig of it before handing it to him.

“I didn’t even think you _liked_ whiskey,” Steve said, once he’d taken a sip of it himself.

“What gave you that idea?”

Steve shot her a look. “I’ve literally never seen you drink anything bot vodka.”

Natasha just shrugged. “I _like_ whiskey. I just like vodka more.” She ignored the eye roll that earned her. “I save the whiskey for special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion?”

Natasha glanced up at him to meet his curious gaze. “It’s _Christmas_."

“But y-“ Steve suddenly paused and shook his head. Natasha frowned at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Rogers._ ”

Finally he met her gaze again. “You’re _Russian_. Isn’t it…different?”

The corner of Natasha’s lips ticked upwards into a small smile. He’d done his research, and the fact that he’d even thought to do so was so… _considerate._ And sweet, if she let herself admit it. She wasn’t used to people doing things like that.

“Yeah. I was five when my p-“ She stopped abruptly, careful not to let her split second of panic over revealing too much show on her expression. “I don’t remember my childhood, but it was outlawed anyway. Nowadays New Years is the most similar to American Christmas.” Steve just nodded, taking another drink from the bottle and letting her continue. “But when I met Clint…I don’t know. It was nice to be apart of it. Normal, you know?”

“Yeah.” He averted his gaze and stared thoughtfully at the bottle in his hands. “Sorry you’re stuck with me this year.”

“ _Stuck_ with you?”

Steve just shrugged. “Yeah. On this op. You can’t be with him.”

“He’ll get over it.” Natasha leaned forward and took the bottle from him when he didn’t drink anymore. “We’d probably just be at Stark’s party anyway.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’d still rather be with...your…” He trailed off and shrugged. Natasha paused in bringing the bottle to her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. His face was tinged pink.

“My…what?” He didn’t answer, but the second his eyes met hers again, it suddenly dawned on her what he meant. She choked out a laugh. “Oh my _god_.”

“What?”

“You think me and Clint are together.”

Steve’s ears were bright red now. He averted his gaze and muttered, “Well I don’t _now_.”

Natasha’s mind went back to the last year and a half, remembering all of the ops the three of them had run together, both for SHIELD and for the Avengers. The amount of times he’d probably seen them bicker, seen how comfortable she was with Clint. Everyone else just _knew_ them, and a few of their colleagues even knew Laura from her days at SHIELD. It had never _once_ crossed her mind that Steve would have seen them as anything other than friends.

“You mean…this _whole_ time, you thought…” Natasha cut herself off with another laugh. She couldn’t help it. Steve just let out a huff.

“I mean, can you blame me? You’re together _all_ the time.”

“So are we! Oh, _god_ , you don’t think _we’re_ together too, do you?” she teased. She didn’t think it was possible, but he blushed even harder. He leaned forward and pulled the whiskey from her hands to take a long gulp from it, wincing as he swallowed it down and avoiding her gaze as if his life depended on it. “Sorry. We are _definitely_ not together. Clint’s ma-“ Despite her uncontrollable fit of laughter she still caught herself. “My…best friend. That’s it.”

“Okay.” He finally peeked up at her, and despite how mortified he looked, his lips still quirked upwards. “It’s not _that_ funny.”

“No, it’s pretty fucking funny.” Steve just shook his head. “Okay. I’m sorry, really. I’ll stop.”

“ _Thank_ you.” They were silent for a few long seconds, until Natasha imagined the look on Clint’s face when she told him - and she was _absolutely_ going to tell him - when they got home. She choked out another laugh, and Steve groaned. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“You will.” Natasha pushed herself up onto her knees and crawled across the bed, plopping down next to him and leaning back against the headboard. “Just not anytime soon.”

“Fantastic,” he muttered. Natasha just nudged him with her shoulder and took the bottle from him.

“Hey, by the way. I know who you should ask out.”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Who?”

“Maria.” He glanced over at her, a crease between his brows. “Hill. Maria Hill.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, and Natasha grinned at the borderline-terrified look on his face. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? She’s hot, and a badass. Exactly your type.”

“I don’t have a _type_ ,” he muttered under his breath. Natasha ignored him.

“She’s Canadian though, that’s not a problem, is it?”

“Why would that be a problem?”

Natasha glanced over, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re Captain _America_.”

Steve gaped at her, his brow furrowed and eyes full of confusion and impatience, clearly at a loss. Natasha lasted exactly four seconds before she cracked a grin and choked out another laugh. Steve struggled, but he eventually gave in and smiled back, covering it up with a roll of his eyes.

“Hey, it’s after midnight,” he said suddenly, nodding towards the digital clock across the room. Natasha followed his eyes and, sure enough, it was 12:04. When she glanced back at him he was raising the bottle to his lips and taking a sip, then offered it back to her.

“Merry Christmas, Rogers,” she replied, accepting the bottle and taking a swig of it herself. Then she settled back against the headboard, her arm brushing up against his. She tensed a bit out of habit, but as always with Steve, it didn’t make her uncomfortable, so she relaxed a bit. It actually felt nice, being this close to him. “I’m not _stuck_ with you, by the way. Believe it or not, I do actually enjoy your company most of the time.”

“Speak for yourself, you’re a _nightmare_ ,” Steve muttered under his breath. Natasha shoved his shoulder again in retaliation. The irritated expression he was attempting to keep on his face broke, and he glanced over at her with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's read and commented and left kudos so far!!
> 
> also a quick note for anyone who's reading the tightly tangled web series: it's definitely still going to continue. long story short i've made some changes in the outline and decided to wait until black widow comes out before finishing part four. but i do still have quite a few things in the works while also simultaneously working on completing the rest of the series in the meantime, including an avengers-era prequel. 
> 
> by the way, this series will be updated once a day until christmas. the only reason i updated twice today was because i realized this morning as i was getting ready for work that i literally got the entire thing ready to post and then........went to bed. 🤦🏻♀️ whoops
> 
> and now, back to our regularly scheduled fluff


	3. 2014

**DEC 24TH, 2014 | MANHATTAN**

Steve’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He let out an irritated huff and pulled it out, but it was the same unfamiliar number that had already called him twice in the last hour. He shook his head and silenced it, catching Sam’s eye when he shoved it back in his pocket.

“Is that the same number _again?_ ” he asked. Steve nodded.

“Someone probably got ahold of it” he muttered, shrugging it off and draining the rest of his drink. When his glass was empty he sat it on the counter of the bar, and the bartended refilled it for him. Whiskey, the kind Natasha always bought.

Just because she’d _left_ didn’t mean he couldn’t drink it. Right?

“Why don’t you just block it?” Steve picked up his fresh drink, avoiding Sam’s pointed gaze. And then, “You don’t know how, do you?”

“ _Yes_ , I do.” Steve’s eyes finally flitted up to meet Sam’s. He was grinning at him. “No. I don’t.”

“Give it to me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but still pulled his phone out again. Before he could put it in Sam’s outstretched hand, however, it rang again. The same number popped up on the screen. Steve sighed irritably.

“I’m just going to tell them they have the wrong number,” he said. Sam shook his head.

“Don’t you think they’d realize that when your voicemail says ‘Hi, this is Captain America?’” Steve was silent. “You don’t know how to record a voicemail message either, do you?”

Steve glared at him, but his lips still curved upwards. Then he tapped the screen of his phone and pulled it to his ear.

“Hello?” There was no answer. He waited a few more impatient seconds. “I think you have the wrong-“

“Hi.”

Steve’s swore his heart actually stopped beating for a second. When his brain finally caught up to him, he motioned to Sam he’d be right back and turned around, heading for the side door that would lead away from the party currently consuming the penthouse of the tower.

“Hey,” he said finally, once he was away from Sam. Natasha didn’t answer. Steve waited until he was through the doors that led to a back hallway behind the lab. “How, uh…are you?”

“I’m fine,” she replied softly. Something about her voice sounded off. Steve swallowed thickly, his mind racing for something to say. “You at Stark’s party?”

“Yeah.” It made him uncomfortable, how difficult this was. Even before SHIELD fell, before everything had fallen apart and they’d somehow managed to become closer through it all…it had never been this awkward between them. But now?

“How is it?”

Steve sighed irritably. “Nat, I haven’t talked to you in eight months.”

She was silent for a few long, uncomfortable seconds. “I know.”

“You just…left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This whole time…I didn’t know if you were angry, or hurt…or worse…you’ve never checked in. Not so much as a-“

“I know,” she said again, cutting him off. “I’m sorry. I just…I needed…time.”

Steve let out a long sigh, the guilt immediately settling in. He knew this had been a rough year for her. The media was having a hell of a time scrutinizing every detail of her classified file, even now, so many months later. He’d ignored as much of it as he could, but he knew it wasn’t positive. Besides, she’d just found out her _entire life_ after leaving the KGB had been a complete lie. He knew she needed time, that this wasn’t an easy thing for her to deal with.

But he also knew how goddamn much he missed her.

“Did you find him?” she asked finally, in response to his silence.

“No,” Steve replied lowly. “Did you find…what you were looking for?”

“No.” She let out a long breath. “Don’t think I’m going to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too. About Barnes.”

They fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t as uncomfortable. Steve tried to come up with something to say, but the only things coming to mind were things he definitely _couldn’t_ say. So he didn’t voice any of them, content with listening to her soft breaths on the other end.

“What are you drinking?” she asked suddenly. Steve frowned, confused at the question.

“Huh?”

“You’re at a party. You have a drink, right?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He paused as it dawned on him what she was saying. “It’s Christmas Eve. What do you think I’m drinking?”

Natasha let out a soft breath that _almost_ sounded like a laugh.

“Well, isn’t that convenient.”

Steve’s eyes fell to stare down at the untouched drink in his hands, and his lips curved up into a smile. Then glanced down to his watch. It was ten after midnight.

“What time is it there?” he asked, not expecting a real answer, and a little surprised when he got one.

“Little after nine,” she replied softly.

Steve chuckled under his breath, then lifted the glass to take a sip of his drink. It burned all the way down his throat and settled warmly in his stomach, even though he was pretty sure that had little to do with the whiskey. He heard her taking a drink too, though he doubted she’d bothered with a glass.

“You’re drinking whiskey at nine in the morning?” he said finally.

“Why not? It’s Christmas.” Steve huffed out a laugh. “You should get back to the party.”

He wanted to protest, but it didn’t come. He knew it wouldn’t do any good anyway.

“Okay.”

“I’ll…see you soon.”

His heart flipped in his chest, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of actually, physically seeing her again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She paused. “I promise.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“I always am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah i know i said i was updating every day but i started the witcher last night the second i got home from work and by the time i finished it was already 4am and i had to go to sleep. sry


	4. 2015

**DEC 24TH, 2015 | UPSTATE NEW YORK**

The compound was quiet downstairs. Tony’s lab was dark, as was the living space off to the side of it, lit up only by the giant tree in the corner. Natasha had been staring at it for a while now, the warm white lights twinkling softly and nothing but the low hum of activity from the party upstairs and her own breaths accompanying her.

That is, until she saw a shadow crossing the lab out of the corner of her eye. Her brain, fuzzy from the amount of alcohol she’d consumed that night, took a second to catch up, but she still knew there was no imminent threat. Her senses knew who it was before her brain supplied her with a name. He came into view, suddenly illuminated by the lights from the tree.

“You alright?” he asked, his large frame leaning against the doorway. Something about his voice seemed off, but when Natasha’s eyes finally flitted over to meet his, he smiled.

“Yeah. Just needed some air. It’s stuffy up there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, pushing himself upright again and hopping down the steps into the room. That was when she noticed what he had in his hand: a bottle of whiskey. She gasped.

“Oh my god. I forgot.”

Natasha felt overwhelmingly guilty for a split second, but the sheer ridiculousness of the way the words had come out sent her into a fit of low giggling that was so uncharacteristic for her that it was almost terrifying to hear it coming out of her mouth. Steve chuckled too, and when he reached the sofa he flopped down next to her.

“It’s okay.” He paused, letting out a long sigh. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“I forgot...cups.”

He glanced over at her apologetically. The concerned crease between his brows and the sudden sadness reflected in his eyes made her laugh again. She just raised an eyebrow at him and reached for the bottle, then twisted it open and tossed the cap towards the coffee table. It missed and fell to the floor, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“We don’t need _cups_ , Rogers.”

With that she took a long swig straight from the bottle, not even wincing as it burned all the way down her throat. Steve just shook his head as she handed the bottle back to him, the concerned look on his face fading into another smile.

While he took his own drink, Natasha pulled one of her legs up to slide underneath her and adjusted herself so she was facing Steve, finally able to get a good look at him. They hadn’t talked much during the party, seeing as they’d been pulled in several different directions the second guests started arriving, but she’d still had time to notice how _good_ he looked. He’d worn a deep blue button down - one shed picked out for him and was, admittedly, her favorite - of which he’d rolled the sleeves up past his elbows. His hair was swept back from his face, not a single piece out of place, and there was a light flush of pink covering his cheeks.

In fact, the more she studied him, she also noticed the glaze in his eyes and the careful, concentrated way he was handling the bottle, as if he was trying not to drop it. After a few long seconds he realized she was watching him, and glanced up at her with a frown.

“What?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you _drunk?_ ”

His lips curved up into a grin, and Natasha swore his face became redder. “Uh...a little? Maybe?”

“ _How?_ ” Something about the fact that he’d managed to actually get drunk at the Christmas party he’d been complaining about all day amused her to no end, and she laughed again.

“Uhh.” He reached up with his free hand and pulled something out of his breast pocket. It was a flask, one that had a rune carved into the front of it. “This.”

“How long have you had that!?” Natasha exclaimed, pulling it from his hands and inspecting it for a few seconds before glancing back over at him. He just grinned.

“Thor left it for me.”

“You’ve had this since _May_ and you didn’t tell me!?”

He frowned at her, but his lips still curved upwards. “So?”

Natasha just shook her head. “I’ve been trying and failing to get you drunk for _years_. And this _whole_ time you had that just sitting in your room.”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. Natasha just huffed in response and let her eyes drop down to the flask. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asked, shooting him a not-so-innocent grin and popping open the cap of the flask.

“That stuff will _kill_ you!”

“I’m Russian, asshole.” With that she lifted the flask to her lips and took a long swig of it.

The second she did, she was immediately filled with regret. It burned so harshly all the way down her throat that may as well have swallowed fire. She was instantly thrown into a coughing fit, and when she finally got the chance to breathe, her eyes were watering profusely.

And Steve was laughing at her.

“ _Russian_. Not Asgardian.”

“Yeah, and you’re from fuckin’ _Brooklyn_ , what does that matter?” she shot back. Steve just chuckled again and took the flask from her. He took a sip of it himself, wincing as he swallowed.

As Natasha watched him, her vision began softening around the edges, more than it already had been. A warmth was already spreading its way through her, and even though the thought of being _truly_ intoxicated made her uncomfortable - she hated feeling like she had no control over herself and her surroundings - this was actually kind of nice. Especially since it was just the two of them, away from the party going on upstairs. She could let her guard down here, let herself drift a bit. After the past couple years they’d had, the two of them deserved that. At least for one night.

She was so distracted by the haziness settling in that she hadn’t realized Steve was staring at her, and she shot him a look.

“ _What?”_

“Nothing,” he replied, much too quickly. He blushed again, but didn’t avert his gaze. His eyes sparkled impossibly blue in the glow coming from the tree, and Natasha found herself distracted again, this time by the way they were gazing into hers. Then the flickered down, only for a second, lingering on her lips before meeting hers again.

“Steve,” she breathed, even though her brain wasn’t fast enough to supply her with any more words. Neither was his, apparently, because he didn’t reply. It wasn’t until Natasha lifted her hand to slide her fingers through the hairs at his temple that he finally spoke.

“What are you-“

“Hold still.”

Natasha’s brain wasn’t working fast enough to stop herself, so she leaned forward until her lips brushed softly against Steve’s. He did as he was told and didn’t move except to kiss her back, and then to lift his hand to brush back the curls that had fallen in her face.

“What was that for?” he breathed, his lips moving against hers. That was when Natasha realized what had happened, and she had a muddled moment of panic.

“Uh. Mistletoe,” she supplied lamely. Of course, Steve then pulled away just to lift his gaze to the ceiling above them. Natasha followed, desperately hoping her lie turned out to be true. When it didn’t, she wasn’t sure if she was more disappointed or mortified.

It didn’t seem to matter. Steve huffed out a laugh and met her gaze again, but before he had a chance to come up with another terrible excuse he was moving towards her again.

His lips pressed hard against hers, and despite the fact that she saw him coming it knocked the breath out of her. Natasha suddenly felt dizzy, and she wasn’t sure if it was the Asgardian liquor buzzing through her veins or the way Steve was kissing her, but she didn’t allow herself to contemplate it. Instead she adjusted herself closer to him, letting him drop his hand to her hips and pull her closer. She slid her leg up and over his until she was straddling his lap, her lips never once parting from his.

“Should we be doing this?” he asked finally, once her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and she pulled away to suck in a sharp breath. She gazed down at him, overwhelmed and completely in awe of the way he was looking up at her. She shrugged.

“Why not?” she replied, bending down to kiss him again. He seemed to have given up his questioning, until he pulled away again a few seconds later.

“Nat-“

“We’re drunk,” she said, cutting off his protest, as if that was a real answer. “Friends can get drunk and make out, right?”

Steve was silent for a few long seconds, his gaze burning into hers with a storm of complicated emotions glazed over them.

“Is that what we are?”

Suddenly it was as if the whole world was at a standstill around them. Natasha pulled her lip under her teeth and bit down, desperately trying to force her brain into concentrating on anything but the intensity of his gaze, the overwhelming scent of his aftershave, the rough stubble on his jawline, and the dizzying feeling of being so close to him. She refused to admit how often she thought about this, about abandoning all sense and kissing him breathless and giving in to whatever it was that she felt around him. Now that she’d done exactly that…she couldn’t risk complicating it.

So instead of an answer she leaned down and pressed her lips against his again. He seemed to accept it, because he didn’t protest this time. His hand dropped to rest on the top of her thigh and she leaned into him, as close as she possible good, letting the alcohol and even more intoxicating feeling that was purely _him_ take control of her actions.

“ _Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff, pardon the interruption-“_ Natasha froze, panicking as if someone had actually walked into the room. “- _but Mr. Stark is requesting your presence upstairs. It is midnight and he would like to make a toast_.”

“Thanks Friday,” Natasha muttered lowly. She pulled away from Steve just enough to peer down at him. He was blushing again. “Merry Christmas, Rogers,” she added with a smirk. He just grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drunk stevenat is my favorite stevenat


	5. 2016

**DEC 24TH, 2016 | LONDON**

“Hey.”

Natasha looked up as Steve stepped onto the balcony and smiled. “Hey, soldier.”

Steve slid down the wall to sit next to her, and as soon as he did she leaned into him. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, placing a kiss on the side of her head.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Not anymore,” she replied, snuggling into him, and Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Glad i could be of service.” Natasha reached for the small bottle of whiskey she’d picked up a couple days prior and handed it to him, and he took a sip before continuing. “How’s Clint?”

“Good,” she replied, taking the bottle back and drinking from it herself. “We didn’t have much time to talk. Had to keep it short, just in case.”

They were silent for a few long seconds, long enough for the guilt creeping up on Steve again. Natasha hadn’t seen Clint or the kids since he’d gone on house arrest, and he knew it was harder on her than she was letting on. Besides, he also knew every Christmas morning she made every effort to be there before the kids woke up and help them open their gifts. Sometimes she couldn’t, if she was gone on a mission or out of town for work - but she’d never missed it because of _him_.

“Do you regret it?” he asked suddenly. Natasha twisted her head around to glance up at him. “Letting us go. You said you were going to regret it.”

Natasha looked away again, staring out at the city below them instead, her brows furrowed as she thought. They hadn’t talked about it much since they’d reconnected, nothing beyond apologies and explanations. Besides, this thing between them was too new. She could still change her mind, could still realize it wasn’t what she wanted and leave again. So Steve hadn’t brought it up, deciding that the most important part was that they’d forgiven each other and they should just move on. The past was the past, after all.

But the words she’d muttered that day at the airport, just before she’d incapacitated T’Challa and allowed him and Bucky to escape on the quinjet, still lingered in his mind, even so many months later. Natasha didn’t make decisions she didn’t want to make, and he knew that. But he still couldn’t help but feel terribly guilty that she’d given up everything - her life, her family, her _freedom_ \- for him.

“No,” she replied finally. There was a finality to her words, no ounce of hesitation in her voice. “If I’d have stopped you...who knows what would have happened.”

Steve thought about that for a second. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d have let her stop him if she’d tried. He couldn’t have fought her, and he wouldn’t have let himself choose between her and Bucky. If they hadn’t escaped that airport...sure, maybe he and Tony would still be on speaking terms, and maybe Zemo wouldn’t have gotten the opportunity to follow through on his plan to tear them apart. But then he’d be in prison. Bucky would either be locked away in the Raft, instead of being treated in Wakanda for the damage done to his brain. Their entire team would still be locked up. He would have been forced to give in, to step down and not fight for what was right.

And he wouldn’t have Natasha.

“Well,” Steve said finally, pulling himself out from the depths of his mind before he fell too far. He took the bottle of whiskey from her and took a long swig of it. “At least we don’t have to go to Stark’s party this year.”

Natasha huffed out a laugh. “True. It wasn’t so bad last year, though.”

“Oh, you mean when you drunkenly made out with me and then barely spoke to me for two weeks?”

“It was not _two weeks_.”

“It was at _least_ two weeks,” Steve insisted. She just shook her head, but he could see the smile trying to force itself onto on her lips. “You don’t have to pretend you weren’t hopelessly in love with me anymore, you know.”

“I was not _hopeless_ ,” she argued. Steve swore he could see the faintest flush coloring her cheeks, and he liked to think it was _him_ who made _the_ Black Widow blush, instead of the cold and the whiskey.

“Nat, you tried to tell me there was mistletoe above us just so you could kiss me.”

“That’s not true.”

“That’s _very_ true.” Natasha pursed her lips stubbornly, but Steve could still see them twitching upwards as she tried not to smile. He tightened his grip around her, pulling her even closer against him. “It’s okay. It was cute.”

“It was...I was drunk. And so were you, if you remember correctly.”

“Yes, but I have no shame. I admit to being hopeless.”

Natasha finally let out a soft laugh, nudging him with her shoulder. “That, I won’t argue you on.”

Steve took one more drink before offering her the bottle. She did the same, then sat it on the floor next to her and leaned her head against his shoulder. They gazed out into the city below them, still buzzing with life even though it was after midnight.

“You know,” she started, after a few long seconds of comfortable silence, “constantly hiding and running is exhausting, and it sucks sometimes, but...this isn’t so bad.”

Steve glanced down at her where she was laying against his shoulder, his heart swelling in his chest just like it did seemingly every single time he looked at her. She closed her eyes, smiling contentedly.

She was right, it was hard. They didn’t typically splurge on nice hotels like this, and had been lucky not to have been tracked here like they had been the last several weeks. Some days Steve wished he could just give up, that there was some option that would allow them to go back home.

But as hard as it was, as tiring as it was to keep to the shadows and constantly be on high alert to avoid getting caught...it would be a hell of a lot worse without her by his side.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. He twisted his head to press a kiss to her hair. “I love you.”

“ _Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu_ \- I love you too


	6. 2017

**DEC 24TH, 2017 | WAKANDA**

“You _still_ do that?”

Natasha paused in handing Steve the bottle of whiskey she’d pulled out from her bag and glanced over at James. Then she looked back to Steve where he was sitting next to her on the floor.

“Do what?”

“It was an accident.” Steve grinned sheepishly over at her. “We used to do this before the army.”

“What, get drunk?”

James snorted.

“On Christmas Eve. We’d save up all year to buy a bottle of whiskey,” Steve explained, then took the bottle from Natasha and poured it into three glasses they’d found in James’ kitchen.

“Yeah, except before the war he could only have a shot of it or he’d be puking his guts out, so I ended up drinking most of it.”

“ _You_ were a lightweight?” Steve just rolled his eyes as he handed her a glass, ignoring her comment.

“During the war, the rest of the commandos would get drunk and pass out, so I usually ended up keeping watch overnight,” he continued, handing James his glass before taking a sip from his own.

“And I’d stay up with him getting just as plastered,” James added.

Natasha huffed out a laugh, and they were all silent for a minute while they sipped their drinks, giving her a chance to put those pieces together. When she’d brought Steve a drink all those years ago, it was out of obligation to keep him involved. And guilt, if she was honest with herself. He’d sulked all night before disappearing, and her mission objective _was_ to acclimate him into the 21st century.

But she wasn’t blind. She’d known he’d been struggling, she’d seen it in his face when they trained together. She’d noticed when he’d been having a bad day. She’d known he was still grieving and mostly just needed time. She’d remembered the first holiday she spent with Clint and Laura, remembered feeling completely and utterly lost, surrounded by an atmosphere she was unfamiliar with in a country she’d never actually been invited to before. Clint had found her on the rooftop of their DC apartment with two beers in his hand and they’d sat in silence for a while, but it had been nice. Comforting. It made her feel like she belonged there.

That’s all she’d wanted for Steve, at the time. To know that she saw him, that she understood. That he wasn’t alone. She had no way of knowing she was bringing up something from his past, that she’d accidentally started a tradition between the two of them that actually began decades before they even met, and with the best friend that, at the time, he thought he’d lost. That such a simple gesture could have meant so much to him…maybe even have upset him more than he already was.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked suddenly, her own voice pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced over at Steve, who shrugged.

“Never came up.”

“You were upset that night. I made it worse.”

“You didn’t. You made it better, actually.” Steve’s eyes met hers, sparkling bright blue, and his lips curved upwards. “Made it all feel…normal.”

“Okay, you guys are crossing into sickening territory.”

Natasha shot James a glare. He ignored her, refilling his glass and leaning back against the chair he was sitting in front of. “There’s a limit of how much of you two I can handle, and you’re dangerously close to it.”

“Shut up.” Natasha picked up the cap of the bottle that she’d left sitting on the floor next to her and chucked it at him. In one swift motion he sat his glass down on the floor, whipped his hand up, and caught the cap right in the center of his palm.

“I taught you everything I know, Romanov,” he said smugly, dropping it to the floor and reaching for his drink again. “You’re going to have to be faster than tha- _mmpf!_ ”

He was cut off by the pillow that smacked into his face, which he didn’t notice her grabbing from the sofa she was leaning up against until it collided his face. His drink spilled everywhere and he cursed loudly in Russian. Steve choked on the sip of whiskey he’d just taken, then was thrown into a violent coughing fit.

“You were saying?” Natasha said, lifting her glass up to her lips and smirking at the glare James was giving her.


	7. 2018

**DEC 24TH, 2018 | UPSTATE NEW YORK**

The compound was quiet. Not that that was anything unusual, but it still, even after so many months, made Steve uncomfortable.

He hadn’t seen Natasha all day. She had days like this often, where she’d disappear and Steve wouldn’t see her until he went into their room and found her already asleep. Or at least, _trying_ to sleep.

It wasn’t always like that, but even on her good days he still saw the dullness in her eyes, still noticed the way her smiles weren’t as bright and how she teased him a little less. And on his bad days he noticed how she pretended to be okay even though he could see right through the mask.

This week had been worse than most, for both of them.

He finally found her, curled up on the sofa in the living area off of Tony’s lab. She was completely silent and hadn’t turned on any of the lights, and if it wasn’t for his enhanced vision, he never would have noticed her.

“Hey.” She barely reacted to the sound of his voice, just a soft twitch of her muscles in acknowledgment that Steve was sure she’d done for his benefit. “It’s freezing in here, aren’t you cold?”

“I’ve been colder,” she muttered softly in return.

Steve crossed the room, grabbing a heavy throw off of an armchair with the hand that wasn’t holding a bottle of whiskey. When he reached her he sat the bottle down on coffee table and sat down next to her before pulling it over them. She finally moved, adjusting herself to curl into him and let her head rest on his shoulder. Steve slipped his arm behind her and pulled her close, rubbing his hand up and down her arm a few times to warm her up.

“I ordered Chinese, if you’re hungry,” he offered. “I can warm it up for you.”

“I’m not,” she replied flatly. Then she let out a soft sigh that was thick with guilt. “Thank you.”

Steve turned his head to kiss her lightly on the forehead. “You want a drink?”

He watched her consider, her eyes moving to land on the bottle of whiskey on the table. They lingered there for a few long seconds, then she nodded, her head bobbing ever so slightly against his shoulder. Steve sat up and reached for the bottle as best he could without jostling her too much, and when he settled back down she lifted her head and pulled her hand out from under the blanket. He opened the bottle and offered it to her, and she took two long swigs of it before handing it back.

“I forgot,” she said finally, while he took a drink of his own. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not midnight yet.”

She let out a huff that could have been a laugh if there was any emotion behind it whatsoever.

The room was thrown into silence as they traded the bottle back and forth a few times. Eventually she declined, burrowing her head in between his chest and the blanket. Steve resealed the bottle and left it on the soft next to him in favor of wrapping his other arm around her.

It didn’t feel right this year. It had started off as something _they_ did, a gesture from Natasha all those years ago that somehow turned into a tradition they kept to every year after. But after the last two years on the run, sharing their moment with their friends - their _family_ \- and then losing each and every one of them…it didn’t seem fair.

It reminded Steve of that first Christmas Eve, when Natasha had found him sitting outside alone and offered him a drink. It hadn’t seemed right then either, remembering how he and Bucky had done the same thing only twelve months ago - for him, at least - until Natasha smiled at him and put his mind at ease. After that it became less and less bittersweet, the more time went on, the easier it was after Bucky’s death and the ice, and the more important Natasha became to him.

But this year, sitting in the dark, cold compound that once held so much life, specifically those of their friends…it was back to just being bitter.

Natasha sniffled softly, and Steve barely heard it from as far back into the depths of his mind as he’d become. He focused on her again, tightening his arms around her briefly before reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants for the box he’d slipped into it earlier.

“I got you something.”

Natasha just let out a sigh. “ _Steve_ -“

“I know you told me not to.” He offered her the box, and she let out another long breath before taking it. “Just…open it. Please.”

Natasha pushed herself upright a bit and slid her other hand out from under the blanket. She slowly opened the box, and when she realized what was in it, she froze.

Ever since they’d met she’d worn a necklace with a tiny arrow pendant on it. It was a few years later that he discovered Clint had bought it for shortly her after she’d joined SHIELD. Steve had thought it meant something completely different, something Natasha still hadn’t let him live down. But in reality it had been something of a symbol, one that represented the first real decision she’d ever made in her life, and the home the Barton’s - specifically Clint - had offered her when no one else believed she was redeemable.

She didn’t wear it all the time - for a while she traded off between the arrow and the green sapphire Steve had gotten her for her birthday one year - but when they found each other again after the mess with the Accords, he noticed she never wore it anymore. Eventually she’d told him that it had fallen off at some point during that stretch of time they were apart, and she had no idea when or where it had happened. She’d been so preoccupied with keeping herself in the shadows and fighting the ghosts from her past that once she finally discovered it was gone, it was too late to retrace her steps.

A few long seconds went by, and Natasha still hadn’t said anything. She just stared down at the tiny silver arrow in the box, her eyes glazing over. She let a silent tear slide down her cheek, not bothering to wipe it away like she normally did.

“I know it’s not the same, but-“

“It’s…it’s perfect.” Her voice was strained, and she swallowed thickly as she blinked back the tears in her eyes. She let her fingers graze gently against the arrow, tracing down the shaft and over the point then back again. “I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

Steve could practically feel his heart breaking for her. It had been seven months of silence, and she’d never once spoken about it. After the two of them arrived at the Bartons’ to find the yard littered with ashes, she’d broken down exactly once and hadn’t reacted again. If she did it was subtle, and Steve could tell when she started building her defenses back up. He wasn’t sure if she knew how many times he’d caught her crying when she thought he wasn’t around, but he’d sneak away every time and come back noisily so she had time to compose herself.

Besides, he knew what she was going through, but at least he’d done this before. Not that losing Bucky was any less painful the second time, but it wasn’t a new feeling. For Natasha, however? She’d never done this. She’d lost people in her life but never anyone as deeply important to her as Clint Barton.

“I know,” he breathed finally.

She sniffled softly and Steve reached over to take the box out of her hands to remove the necklace. When he did she sat up a bit and lifted her hair so he could carefully slide it around her neck. When he was done she curled into him again, letting her head rest on his chest and wrapping her arm tightly around his waist.

“Thank you,” she breathed her voice catching in her throat. Steve pulled the blanket back up over her shoulders, then leaned over to kiss the top of her head.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her hair. Her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his t-shirt and she sucked in a sharp, wavering breath.

“ _Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wouldn't be my fic if there wasn't at least a little bit of angst, right?
> 
> i know i'm supposed to wait until tomorrow for this one buuuuuuuuuut i'm going to be busy most of the day so it's getting posted early in preparation for me to inevitably forget about it.
> 
> (and also i'm not done writing the last one and i need more time 🙈)


	8. 2028

**DEC 24TH, 2028 | BROOKLYN**

When Natasha woke, it was to silence. Her eyes flew open with a start, but when she sat up and didn’t hear what she thought she did, she blinked around the room sleepily while her mind caught up. It was then that she realized she was alone.

Steve was gone, and when she let her hand fall to slide over the sheets, they were cold. She frowned, trying to remember him getting up. She must have been utterly exhausted, because she was definitely _not_ a light sleeper. Especially not anymore.

Finally she pushed herself out of bed, pulling on an oversized hoodie of Steve’s that he’d left lying on the floor and yawning as she made her way out of the bedroom. The apartment was silent, and when she made it to the living room she paused, a smile spreading across her lips.

Steve fast asleep on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table and head tilted awkwardly to the side. Lying on his chest - sleeping just as soundly - was James, his red curls sticking up in every direction and thumb in his mouth. The lights from the giant tree on the other side of the room cast a soft white glow over them, and for a moment all she could do was gaze across the room at them, her heart full.

Steve stirred a bit when took the spot next to him on the couch, but James wasn’t phased in the slightest. Natasha reached for the blanket sitting over the arm of the sofa and pulled it over them, spreading it out over Steve and herself until only James’ head was peeking out from underneath it. Then she curled into Steve, letting her head fall to rest against his shoulder.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled after a few long seconds, his voice rough from sleep. “I know I’m s’posed to let him cry.”

“You coddle him too much,” she replied softly. Steve huffed out a sleepy laugh.

“He just looked so sad.”

“Because he knew you were going to pick him up. He got those sad puppy eyes from you, you know.”

“They work pretty well on you.”

Natasha just rolled her eyes, tilting her head to gaze over at James. She reached up and carefully pushed a curl out of his face. He twitched and made a soft, sleepy noise but didn’t wake, and Natasha’s heart leapt in her chest. She let her fingers slide gently down his full cheeks and his hand, the one balled up into a fist with his thumb stuck in his mouth, suddenly completely overwhelmed by the sight of him…something that still happened often despite him being almost ten months old already.

Once she was finally able to tear her eyes away from James, she glanced up at Steve. His eyes were still closed, and when he let out a soft breath, Natasha huffed out a laugh. He was always insisting James looked like her, but right now, in this moment, there was no denying how were absolutely identical they were. He may have inherited her hair and her nose, but the rest of him was purely Steve: his eyes, his smile, even his mannerisms.

“You laughin’ at me?” Steve mumbled, peeking over at her with one eye.

“Maybe,” Natasha answered with a grin.

Steve huffed out a laugh and closed his eyes again, settling himself against her. Natasha let her eyes linger on him and James for a few more seconds before they fell on the tree across the room. They’d turned it off before they went to bed, but Steve must have turned it back on. Now it lit up the room with a warm glow, sending abstract shadows across the walls and the floor, illuminating the gifts underneath it. There were _way_ too many in Natasha’s opinion, but James had no shortage of aunts and uncles who had decided to spoil him rotten for his first Christmas despite Natasha’s protests that he wasn’t going to remember any of it.

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asked after a few long minutes of comfortable silence. She glanced over at him briefly before letting her eyes fall on James again.

“I don’t know. I just…” She frowned, her mind struggling to find the right words. “When I died-“

Steve’s breath caught in his lungs, and although it was subtle Natasha still heard it. He never brought it up, and she knew how much it bothered him when she did herself. He’d had a hard time dealing with her death, even after somehow finding a loophole that allowed her to come back.

She didn’t remember any of it. She had dreams about falling, but that was the only memory she had between being pulled into the quantum tunnel and waking up on Vormir. Bruce suggested it was her mind’s way of dealing with the trauma…after all, despite the serum running through her veins, she was still _human._ She’d still died, still existed in the soul realm for an extended amount of time before she was brought back. She still struggled to comprehend what Steve had gone through, that in his reality she had been very much _not alive_ for several weeks.

“ _Nat_ ,” Steve warned, his voice tight. He lifted his head and shot her a look, a bit of desperation swirling in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I know. But…” She paused again. “Sometimes I think about…before. About living in the compound, and how so much of those five years seemed to blur together. And I know I don’t remember what happened, but when I came back, I felt different. I felt… _calm_. Even though the compound was gone, Tony was gone, and everything had changed, I still felt so at peace. The version of myself that existed before was so overwhelmed by guilt, and after the Snap, it completely took over.”

“I know,” Steve replied softly. He was still watching her, but she avoided his gaze, staring determinedly at the tree as she tried to organize her thoughts.

“But despite all of that…I would do it again. In a heartbeat.” Finally she tore her eyes away from the tree and let them fall on James, then reached up to gently run her hands through his curls again. “If I hadn’t...I wouldn’t have this.”

“You don’t know that.” Natasha met his gaze.

“I had a feeling, going into it, what would happen. I had time to make peace with it. And I _was_ …I was ready for it. I was prepared. I thought I had lived enough, that I already had so much more than I ever could have imagined. I had you, I had a family. I had a reason to keep _trying_. To continue making up for the things I’ve done and the people I’ve hurt. But I didn’t know what else I was missing.” Her eyes fell on James again, still sound asleep. “I didn’t think I deserved anything else, let alone what I had. And I still don’t. But I’ve made peace with it. And if I hadn’t jumped, I never could have had this. I wouldn’t be able to give him as much as I can now.”

“Well, that and we’d all probably be dead,” Steve muttered under his breath. Natasha huffed out a laugh. “You’ve always deserved it, Nat. All of it. And you would have given him just as much then as you do now. The only difference is that you’ve finally allowed yourself to let go of the past.” He closed his eyes again, settling back on the sofa. “You spent so many years helping me move on. It was only fair that you got a chance to do the same.”

“Yeah, well. I guess I’m just as stubborn as you are.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, then adjusted himself so that he could hold James with his other hand and slide his newly freed arm around Natasha’s waist. He pulled her closer, and she placed a soft kiss on the bottom of his jaw, then one on James’ forehead before letting her head rest on Steve’s shoulder.

“When are you gonna let me marry you?” he asked, once they’d both gotten comfortable, and Natasha let out a soft chuckle. He’d asked her several times - at least four or five since they returned from Vormir - and she hadn’t given him an answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to marry him. She knew without a doubt that she did. She was just never sure that they _needed_ to. Besides, the thought of marriage still terrified her, just a bit, despite the fact that they’d been together for over a decade, had a life and even had a son together. She knew it would take a little more time to adjust to the idea.

“Eventually,” she promised. “Don’t stop asking.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

He was falling asleep again, Natasha could hear it in his voice. She smiled to herself, making a note to really, _truly_ consider what it would mean if she finally gave him an answer next time.

That’s when her eyes fell on the unopened bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. She suddenly remembered putting it there, several hours ago. They’d finally gotten James to bed and were going to stay up until midnight, but had eventually dozed off on the couch watching some rerun of an old sitcom they’d stopped making after the Snap. When they both finally woke up an hour later it had completely slipped their minds and they’d gone to bed.

She glanced towards the kitchen, searching for the glow of the digital clock on the stove. It was 12:04.

“Steve, we forgot...”

She trailed off when she let her gaze fall on him again. He was fast asleep. She huffed out a soft laugh, and settled back down next to him, deciding it could wait until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is, without a doubt, the most ridiculously fluffy thing i've ever written. 
> 
> i wanted to post it an hour ago (midnight for me), but editing took longer than i'd planned. and i'm not currently drinking any whiskey, but the bottle is sitting next to me and i had some earlier, so that counts, right?
> 
> anyway, this will probably be the last thing i post for 2019, so i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has ever commented, left kudos, tweeted me, and left messages in my tumblr ask box. before i started posting my series on here i never once planned on posting anything _at all_. it was just something i did for fun on my downtime. thanks to a friend (hi niki) i finally took the leap and posted something i'd written for the first time, and the feedback has been so incredibly encouraging that it makes all of the time spent writing and editing a researching and scrutinizing each and every word in order to make it perfect absolutely worth it. so from the bottom of my heart, _thank you_. this was my gift to each and every one of you, and i hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> and with that, i need to stop being sappy and go to bed because if i'm not at my mom's to open santa presents in seven hours my young siblings will rip my head off. merry christmas, happy hanukkah, happy holidays, happy whatever you may celebrate, and happy new year!! <3


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